In Love and Hate
by hexe-dm
Summary: ~~~ CHAPTER 5 UP ~~~ Investigations are continued...
1. Chapter 1 and 2

**Love and Hate**  
  
  
Chapter 1: Arrival  
  
Carrying her rucksack on her back and a bag in her right hand, she stood there among passengers and relatives waiting for their planes to come. Every airport was like this one, with its coming and going, its voices and patter. Here she was, looking for the exit, she who had flown from Boston just to settle down miles away from her family and few friends. As she spotted the large doors not far from her, the cab cars behind, she sighed. The last time she had been in LA, the sun had shone, the birds had been trying to drown out the brumming of the cars, she had spent two wonderful weeks in spring at the Western coast, not at the beach but at an interview at Community General Hospital and then looking for an apartment. The former had been as successful as the latter had not. Now it was November, not as warm and especially not as sunny a day as then. Looking for an apartment wouldn't be quite funny now.  
"Doctor Wells?" she heard someone say somewhere behind her. She turned around to where she believed to find someone she knew, as Wells was her name. Not succeeding, she got on her tiptoes, balancing still with her bag, when she finally spotted an elderly white-haired man with an equally white moustache whom she recognised from the interview as Doctor Mark Sloan and who had offered her, after her telling him about her failure in finding a lodging, to stay with him and his son – a fire-worker, wasn't he? someone working for the state – just for the time she needed to find an accommodation. The man waved, and he and a taller man next to him walked over to her.  
"Hello, Doctor Wells! I hope you had a good flight."  
"Yes, thank you, Doctor Sloan! And it's Emily." she added with a smile, trying her best not to look too exhausted.  
The taller man had to be the doctor's son, according to the shape of his face, especially the same broad chin. Though his smile wasn't accompanied by those twinkling eyes which gave his father a more sympathetic look and Sloan junior a friendly but hiding look.  
"And this is my son Steve", the elder man informed her. "Steve , may I introduce you to Doctor Emily Wells?"  
"Pleased to meet you, Doctor Wells!"  
"It's Emily. Pleased to meet you, too. Your father told me much about you. Correct me if I'm wrong that you work for the fire-department?"  
"Well, Emily, that's not completely wrong, he does help the fire-department, but most of all he works for the LAPD as a Lieutenant Detective."  
"Sorry, Mr. Sloan, that I misunderstood your father then."  
"Doesn't matter. And you're that young doctor my father told me about."  
Doctor Sloan interrupted them. "Emily, let Steve take your bag and let's go home. You must be very tired from your voyage."  
"Actually, you're right. Thanks, Mister Sloan!"  
"Steve" replied the younger man. She nodded smiling, and together they went through the crowd outside.  
  
  
In the car, she watched the raindrops splatter on the ground and listened to their sound on the car. The sound of the radio mixed with the raindrops and nobody said a word.  
  
  
The house was amazing. Outside it was hidden behind a wall and high plant between which you walked towards the brown door. When entering you stood in a small hall that led directly – attention to the stairs – into the living room.  
Steve put the bag down on the floor, an Mark followed Emily's glance to the broad windows that showed the rather rough Pacific Ocean. She immediately thought of her home, the windows through which she watched the Atlantic Ocean that soon would have ice floes shimmering on a cold December morning… she swallowed, then sighed and strengthened herself.  
"I'll show you your room now, so you can refresh yourself. And then we should have something to eat. You like barbecue?"  
She looked at him in surprise. "Yes. Barbecue? I thought the Californian cuisine… "  
"…were kind of light? Well, as Steve is the co-owner of this barbecue restaurant, it's a lot harder to keep up a diet," Mark said giggling.  
  
  
Later in the night, Emily laid on her bed, not tired enough to sleep because of the happenings during the day, but tired enough not to recall everything Steve and Mark – he had offered her to call him that way – had told her about the best places in LA and the Community General. Sometimes she couldn't understand the two men, the restaurant being full of customers who Steve had to serve because some doctor of CG hadn't had time. A doctor? No, was impossible. Doctors had 48-hour-shifts three times a week, when should this doctor find the time to rum a restaurant! As hard as she tried, she couldn't remember that name. She yawned. She had to find this doctor the day she would be in hospital the first time, she thought. And with that thought and the taste of barbecued ribs she drifted into sleep.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 2: The first day at CGH  
  
The weather hadn't gone better. On the contrary, it rained cats and dogs, and so she stalked through the streets, having just had a look at two apartments at moderate rent that were far away from being moderate. Only they had been just a few blocks away from the hospital. Just three apartments left on her list. Her umbrella couldn't prevent her feet from becoming soaked wet though she was currently dodging bigger puddles. She looked at her watch. She could as well go to the hospital now where she was to meet Mark for lunch.  
And suddenly it happened: a swoosh, a scream, and she lay on the ground.  
People turned around to look down at her. How incredulously she looked, she thought. Her skirt dirty and wet as well as her nylons. Awful! She tried to get up but winced once she moved her left foot. Shit! Next try. Avoiding to move the left leg an inch, Emily managed to get up and to grab her umbrella which was now unnecessary because now she was already soaked wet, her hair clung to her face. Her hands were as dirty as her skirt. She hadn't taken a handkerchief with her. Great! What would happen next? Limping she made her way to the nearby CGH, grumbling at low voice along her way and biting her lip every time she moved her foot one inch too far, holding the umbrella in her cold hands.  
  
  
Thus she arrived half an hour later at the hospital where she was greeted by a nurse and a wheelchair in which she sat down. Taking a deep breath she looked around.  
The come and go didn't surprise her, that had been the same at Boston Central. It belonged to hospitals as a pony to a tail. Wheeled to an examination room she was asked her name and the necessary data and was told to wait, a doctor would come to examine her as soon as possible.  
So here she was. This was where she was about to work the next years.  
  
Not half an hour later the door opened and a young doctor caught her attention. Looking on his clipboard he didn't notice the young woman's paling face. "Hello, Misses" he searched on the clipboard, then threw a look at the person in front of him, then smiled broadly. "Hi, Emily."  
"Doctor Wells!" she replied coldly.  
Irritatedly, he went with his fingers through his hair. Then "Nice to meet you, too", reaching out his hand. He had his friendly smile back. But that didn't reach Emily declining his offer and wincing even more when he examined her foot.  
"How did you do this?" he asked, trying to put up a conversation.  
"I slipped."  
He looked up at her. "Oh." Pause. "Has been a long time since med school."  
"Yes." She longed to quit the hospital right now and forever, back to Boston. She couldn't work nearly next to this person who had hurt her that much.  
Having finished the examination he looked into her hard eyes that'd shot icicles if they could. He laid his head on one side and spoke to her in a sternly tone. "Is it just me or have you become short-sentenced, Emily?"  
Taking a deep breath she wanted very much to argue about making jokes about the past, but at that moment it was Mark's turn to enter the examination room.  
"A nurse told me you were here." He spotted Jesse. "Oh good, you've already made acquaintance with Doctor Jesse Travis. He's the one I told you about yesterday." And at her questioning look added, "Who owns and runs BBQBob's together with Steve."  
"Oh" she smiled dumbfounded.  
  
This day had gone worse!  
  



	2. Chapter 3

Yes, UC is over now!! Well, for the next two weeks. That means fanfics fanfics fanfics :-)  
As for the disclaimer I realized I've forgotten in the first chapter, it's like everyone else is saying, I don't own the four main characters nor Dane Travis (his appearance will take some time), and Doctor Emily Wells is my creation, as well as Ernest and Magda Barnabas. Some other characters follow soon.  
I'm still German, so excuse my mistakes in grammar and spelling and sentence construction.  
Have I forg… ah yes, reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for those of you who have already taken their time to do so.  
  
And now, I proudly present:  
  
  
  
Chapter 3: Entrance to Hell  
  
Two days went by, during which Emily didn't hear a word from Jesse. She had finally found an apartment, and now she was packing her bag at the beach house, when the bell rang. She limped to the door, as Mark and Steve were at work, opened the door – and would have been rather happy to shut it right away.  
„Hi Emily. Still here?" Jesse asked, hands in his pockets, mockingly surprised.  
„What are you doing here?" she asked in return.  
Grinning he said, „Hey, you're talking to me!" and adding hastily „Mark called me to meet him." She hopped aside to let him in. „How's your foot?"  
„Better." With that she turned around and hobbled to the guest room.  
Jesse closed the door and followed her. He stopped in the doorway to the guestroom and looked at the young woman, his arms crossed now, leaning against the beam.  
Throwing a look at her bag he said, „Mark told me earlier this day. And not far away from CGH! Must be really wonderful."  
Emily folded the two pullovers a bit faster.  
„I'd never given thought that someday you would show up in CGH, especially the way you did the day before yesterday."  
She threw the T-shirt she had been folding on the bed.  
„Listen, Jesse" she shouted glancing at him, gesturing wildly with her arms. „As much as I'd like to throw you out, it's not my right. You may go wherever you wanna go, but, please, not here!"  
Jesse shrugged in surprise. „Excuse me. Didn't remember you acting that - childishly."  
„What? You want to make me believe that I'm a child, though it was you who has been that pretty silly guy running up and down med school following and begging me like a dog waiting for a biscuit, and in the end trying the next girl!"  
„I'm still sorry, Emily, you know that. But now it's on you to accept this or not. Till then, I'll wait in the living room." He turned and left a rather agitated Emily behind him. When would she get it that it hadn't been nothing but a harmless incident?  
  
  
  
Jesse was flipping through some magazines when Mark came finally. Emily hadn't come anywhere near him, no wonder.  
„Hi Jesse. Where's Emily?"  
„In the guest room."  
„Hoped she'd be here, too." And on Jesse's lifted eyebrow, "When she was in the examination room, I was guessing if you two knew each other."  
Jesse sighed which showed Mark that he was right. "Not a very good past you two had, I assume."  
"No, not really." He wasn't at all sure if he should discuss this in the presence of Emily in the near rooms. Rooms often had the bad property of not being soundproof when they should be. "Why did you call me, Mark?" he asked instead.  
Mark wondered why Jesse changed the subject. He made a note in his mind to remind him talking with Jesse later. "Some new murder case to be solved. Steve should also be here in…"   
Just at that moment the above mentioned person entered the living room. "Hi Dad! Hi Jesse."  
"Wow, Steve in a better mood than Jesse. I'm gonna mark this date in my calendar." Mark giggled.  
"This should lift Jesse's mood as well. I've got a new case, two corpses and no hints."  
"But according to your mood, you already know who these corpses are, don't you?" Mark asked.  
Steve smiled. "Yeap. Ernest and Magda Barnabas."  
"You're kidding! Ernest and Mag- no!" Mark repeated amazed.  
Jesse, now all ears when he saw Mark's mouth open in surprise, asked, "Could anybody tell me who are Ernest and Magda Barnabas?"  
the younger doctor still wondering about these obviously very well-known persons Mark answered, "They're the couple who has been stealing amphetamines from pharmacies and selling them all over the town."  
"Didn't know that. Haven't been reading the newspaper lately."  
"Oh, yesterday I had the luck of treating one of their customers. She didn't make it at least to the operation room." he said with a sad voice, laughing sarcastically.  
"And now they're dead. Probably one of these customers who had had the chance to live long enough."  
"Those would never have used a gun that special. They'd have tried with a simple revolver or even a knife, whatever comes between their hands. No, this one wasn't committed by drug addicts."  
"Who else? The oh-so-sad-wife can be excluded as well, for this has been a couple, as you said, Mark." Jesse joked.  
"Well, I didn't say, it had been husband and wife. No, they were brother and sister, she's divorced."  
"So, what about her ex-husband? Living in grief cause the beloved woman of his dreams has turned out to be his nightmare selling drugs?"  
Mark looked at Jesse, puzzled. He wasn't sure what to respond, whether it was a joke or a sarcastic way to show his anger about drug dealers. He himself was angry with those people, though as for him, killing them was definitely not the right way to solve the problem. Instead he told Steve, "Let's have a look at the crime scene. I mean, perhaps one glance from the outside might succeed in at least one hint. That would be more than this nothing the police are having at the moment."  
"We could take Emily to her new home on our way." Steve proposed.  
"And I've got to be in hospital right now", Jesse said hastily.  
"You're not hiding from Emily, are you?" Mark looked the younger man directly into the eyes which were eager to study the walls and the floor.  
"No", the addressed man replied hesitating, becoming red-cheeked. Then hopping up from his seat he told the two men his "Bye" and left them.  
"Can't await her first real day at CG," Mark giggled.  
"Why?"  
"Well, Jesse seems to know her from the past but is not quite happy to talk to her, neither about her. And have you heard Emily talking about Jesse? Have been rather surprised when I learned they already knew each other."  
"Wow, that bad! I know, Jesse sometimes is stamping on my nerves, yet he's a real friend. Can't imagine what he could have done." he wondered  
"I should talk to Emily first. Maybe now is the right time." With that he got up and went to the guest room.  
  
  
With the door open widely, she had got every word. So she wasn't surprised when Mark appeared in the doorway to the guest room. She had decided that nobody, even Mark, should find out by her about her first year at med school. Especially not now, not here.  
So she kept on evading his questions that came too near those happenings.  
Relieved she got out of Steve's car and after having refused to let Steve carry her bag up to her new apartment, watched the car driving around the next corner.  
  



	3. Chapter 4

_ Hi evr'body!  
Still reading my story? Good. This'll gonna be a long chapter, so I keep my intro short.  
Just one appetizer: You'll finally get to know why Emily hates Jesse!  
Enjoy!  
  
All disclaimers apply. The Murrows, Mister Tribbles, Miss deWinter, the Zealous and the Callums are mine._   
  
  
  
  
Chapter 4: Shit happens  
  
  
The weather had gone better in the last hours, it wasn't raining any longer, even the sun shone. Yet it was cool, when Mark and Steve went upstairs to the third floor where the couple had been shot down. The house had more of a low budget one than Mark had thought. Dust lay in thick heaps on the stairs, here and there surrounding a hole. The walls were painted with different graffiti, prettified with bullet holes. A smell of alcohol and butane acid was spread all over the whole building. A baby was crying in one of the rooms. Was it really a baby? Perhaps he should tell Steve to have a look, just to be sure. They had by now arrived in front of the Barnabas' room which was blocked by a yellow tape and under which father and son crawled through into what could hardly be called an apartment. The flat was as scanty and meagre as the staircase was not. Too meagre, as Mark noticed now. Not only there was no hint of the killer but neither that two people had lived here. There stood only a bed and an empty cupboard.  
  
"The police have combed this room twice and more, but it's nearly as clean as a hospital room."  
  
Mark looked at his son in astonishment. "So what have they been doing here? Hiding?" He walked to the dirty window next to the bed and looked onto the street. "By the way, who paid the rent if not them?" He turned to Steve. "And if they didn't want to be found, then they had to do it under another name. Someone found out…"  
  
Steve watched his father frowning. "Dad?"  
  
"Just a thought, Steve. Just an impossible thought." He walked over to his son. "Let's go. Oh and could we have a look at an apartment on one of the lower floors?"  
  
"Well, will you tell me why and which one exactly?" Steve followed his dad out of the room.  
  
"I heard… Someone screamed, and I was wondering whether it really was a baby. Though by the volume…"  
  
"And the apartment is?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Steve grimaced. "So what do you want me to do? Knock on each door and ask 'Excuse me, Sir, my Dad was just curious if you hit your wife. May we talk to her and examine her?' ?"  
  
"C'mon, Steve. I've become a doctor so that I can help people."  
  
"And you can play detective whenever you want."  
  
Mark giggled but got serious immediately afterwards. "Step aside and let me…"  
  
He was interrupted by a cracking sound in one of the rooms on the first floor, where they had by now arrived, and then a man ran past them, leaving an open door and a crying person behind him. Steve was about to run after him, but Mark held him back shaking his head and forming a toneless "no" with his mouth, gesturing him to come to the door. A small piece of creased paper told him that here were the Murrows living.  
  
Inside lay the remainings of a cupboard that looked identical to the one they had found in Magda's and Ernest's room. And somewhere in a corner of the room sat a crouched woman whimpering. Cautiously in order not to destroy the splintered cupboard they climbed over it, giving no thought to knock on the door. The sudden shatter of wood as Steve got stuck and tore his leg off a nailed board made the woman crouch even more and put her arms over her head, not daring to look up.  
  
"No. No! Go. Away." she murmured between sobs. Mark cleared his throat. She moved her head slowly, still her arms around her head, still sobbing terrified. Having recognized that there was no danger awaiting her, she dried her eyes with the sleeves of her grey pullover and said, "Sorry, Misters… just missed my husband. Dunno where he's right now. You wait here or… or come back tomorrow. Won't be late. I…"  
  
"Misses Murrow, we don't want to talk to your husband, we'd like to talk to you." Mark said in his I'm-a-doctor-so-don't-be-afraid-tone. She had put on again her angstful expression nevertheless. "I'm Doctor Mark Sloan and this is my son Steve Sloan. Actually, we're… investigating the murder of a couple who lives two floors above yours."  
  
Relieved that she was no longer the centre of their concern, she spoke, "The murder of Magda and Ernest, hm? I've heard. Bad thing." She got up and went to the other side of the room where stood a box with bottles of water. She took one and continued talking. "Stolen you some medicine?" And on Mark's puzzled look, "everybody knew what they did."  
  
"According to their room it didn't seem they'd been living there for long."  
  
"You don't know who else is living here. If I told the police that Mister Tribbles next door has some interesting plants growing in his rooms, or that Miss deWinter often goes shopping at night, filling her bags with TVs and radios and that kinda stuff, this house would sooner or later be completely deserted. Though there has been some kinda come and go in the last weeks." Mark glimpsed Steve whose face had turned to embarrassment, him being detective but not able to arrest anyone. Not now. Until they left… "Not that I have anything to do with them. We say Hello in the staircase, and that's that. Will you excuse me? My husband will be back soon, and if I haven't tidied up till then, all hell will be broken loose."  
  
"You should check the bruises on your face, maybe something is broken."  
  
"Doctor…"  
  
"Sloan."  
  
"Doctor Sloan, I'm okay. Really."  
  
"Well, okay. But in case you decide to go to a hospital, here's my card. I work in Community General." He gave her a small piece of paper which she hid in her trousers. Just at that moment Mark's beeper went off. "Sorry to have disturbed you."  
  
"Doesn't matter, Doctor Sloan!"  
  
Mark and Steve said Goodbye and headed outside to Steve's car in front of the house.  
  
"Why didn't you tell her that I'm from the police?" Steve asked as they were sitting in the car and driving towards CG.  
  
"She'd never have told us about the inhabitants. Neither would she do in hospital. Believe me, doctors are more trustworthy than policemen."  
  
"I'm no policeman, I'm a detective."  
  
"You arrest people, that's enough."  
  
"May I at least check the other inhabitants, Dad?" he asked like a nine-year-old would ask who'd like to play with a toy gun.  
  
"Yes, you may. But be careful. If you don't mind, wait a week or so."   
  
Steve drove into the parking lot of CGH. "You're pretty sure she'll turn up in hospital."  
  
"I'm afraid yes. I hope at least she comes walking, not wheeled in on a gurney. Could you…"  
  
"Check her husband's background?"  
  
Mark nodded. "Yes. Thanks, Steve." He sighed. "Well, now I see why Emily was complaining about rents and rooms in LA yesterday. Especially this one didn't suit her…" Getting out of the car he added, "You're at home this evening?"  
  
"Is it my turn to cook?"  
  
"Fortunately not."  
  
The glance that Steve threw at his father spoke volumes. Mark smiled innocently and turned around to where he worked.  
  
  
  
  
  
"No, Amanda!"  
  
"Please!!!"  
  
"No. I. Won't. Do. That. Basta!"  
  
"CJ and Dion will love you for this!"  
  
"CJ and Dion are old enough not to believe in Santa Clause."  
  
"They don't dare think of a non-existent Santa Clause."  
  
"Why can't he come through the roof like into every other house?"  
  
"Aww, come on, Jesse, one last time."  
  
"Last year CJ nearly exposed me when he tugged at my coat and I almost lost balance."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"No, 'cause your Christmas tree was in my way." Jesse grimaced at the thought of itching and scratching needles.  
  
"I'll buy you some broader stilts."  
  
"That's humiliating."  
  
"That's long stuff for short stuff. And I'm gonna add a thick cushion."  
  
"Oh no, Amanda."  
  
"Well, that's how a Santa Clause has to look like. And as you eat but don't put on weight, that's the only way to prepare you."  
  
"Why me? Steve's taller, he'd only need a cushion."  
  
"He hasn't got as much patience as you have. And I'm gonna treat Santa Clause to a dinner."  
  
That convinced Jesse. "How do women always succeed? Have to ask Steve the next time I see him."  
  
"CJ and Dion are already looking forward to Christmas though it's still five weeks to go."  
  
Jesse smiled. "Well, now that you've spoiled my lunch break, I've gotta go back to work. See ya."  
  
"Bye." Amanda answered in a singing way.  
  
  
  
  
  
Five days later, Emily had still some days to get used to her new home, work should start on the first of December. While buying wallpapers and carpets, and furnishing her apartment with the help of a skilled workman, she hadn't had the time to roam LA. Thus, she was rather happy, that one evening, it was Sunday, she sat on her new couch, a glass of coke in her hand, zapping through the channels of her new TV. One program caught her eye. A reporter was standing next to a burning house. Firemen and policemen were busy in getting the whole scene under control.  
  
"…poisoned the neighbours' dog. As if this wouldn't have been enough, Mister Callum painted Mister Zealous' car, so when Mister Zealous saw this, he countered with a truck full of chrysanthemums, for he knew that Misses Callum was allergic against these flowers. What followed was a fireworks that missed its originally target and hit the kitchen window and behind it the skillet with hot oil. Mister and Misses Zealous were taking a nap, so nobody noticed the biting smell of smoke which would have saved their lifes. Since the police arrived, Mister Callum has been confessing and regretting everything he did. He said, he just wanted his right but nobody's death. And all that started with a borrowed screwdriver. May we hope that Christmas is still the time of forgive and forget. Have a Merry Christmas! Hanna Warren, DBC, Sacramento."  
  
Emily stared at the flickering screen, not listening to the reporters' words any longer. What had happened in Sacramento reminded her of how all had started in med school.  
  
She had been there for a year, she would finish school in Boston. And this one year had turned out to be her worst ever.  
  
It hadn't started that bad. She was young – two years younger as she had had the luck of being able to attend school a year earlier and also skip one year in junior high – and not really beautiful, so she wouldn't have the problem of being disturbed from learning. Jesse was in the same class. At first, they got along well, helping each other in learning, she had problems with maths, he with physics. She envied him, because he was the accepted guy, though not all teachers liked him but that didn't seem to bother him, whereas Emily had soon her nickname 'teacher's darling'. It was the only friendship she had by the time. He dragged her to some students' parties where she sat in a corner, nipping coke, talking about the latest lessons. Jesse listened to her and tried his best to persuade her to dance.  
  
Then came the day that changed everything. She had been in med school for eight months, and Jesse said it was time to celebrate two thirds of one year of med school. Emily laughed and told him that it was crazy to celebrate two thirds.  
  
"Well, we haven't celebrated the first third, so you have at least to celebrate the two thirds twice as well." Jesse joked.  
  
This logic made her laugh even more, and he said, she looked lovely when she laughed. His way of staring the other girls directly into their eyes, to which she had been resistent for a long time, frightened her now and she hurried out of the room.  
  
However, the party took place a week later, and she danced with him. What a night! The best she ever had. In the end he accompanied her to her room and kissed her in front of the door. She wasn't quite aware what happened then, but somehow she woke up in her bed the next morning with a very good feeling, got up and dressed for school, Jesse waiting for her. During the morning she never lost a slight grin and was inattentive of what the professors said. After lunch she had to go to the library, and Jesse told her to meet her at seven in the evening for dinner. He would practise some golf until then.  
  
She found her wanted information, left the library and thought of surprising Jesse at his golf practice. Having arrived at the course she was told that he hadn't turned up the whole day. Puzzled she left the golf course, heading to her room. On her way she decided to have a cappuccino and entered a café. She better had not. The café full of students, she didn't notice immediately a couple giggling and kissing next to the bar. Between phrases she exchanged with the man behind the counter she couldn't help but listen to the couple.  
  
"You didn't have to come here," the female half of the couple said.  
  
"I wanted." he answered.  
  
"You've time?"  
  
"Much time."  
  
"How much?"  
  
"The whole afternoon." Kiss. "I love you."  
  
"You mean it?"  
  
"I mean it. I love you."  
  
Emily paid her cappuccino, took the cup and was searching for a free seat, as all of a sudden she spotted the couple she had been listening to the last two minutes. She stopped in her way, not believing what she saw there. It was Jesse. And he was kissing another woman.  
  
"And… this girl, with whom you have a date this evening, you love her, too?"  
  
"I love you. Only you."  
  
"You two have a date."  
  
"We don't have a date, it's nothing."  
  
It's nothing! The most hurting words. His love for Emily was nothing but a lie! The rattling of her cup connecting with the ground draw everybody's attention onto her. Jesse swallowed hard, then stood up and went towards her.  
  
"Emily, it's not what you think."  
  
"Don't. Come. Any. Further."  
  
"Please, Emily darling, let me explain to you." He made a step forward.  
  
"I repeat: Don't. Come. Any. Further."  
  
Before she realised what was happening, he had already grabbed her and kissed her for a long time. "I love you," he whispered into her ears, everybody watching them.  
  
She made a step backwards and took a deep breath. Then she hit him with her right fist as hard as she could in his face. It hurt badly later at night. But, she told herself, it had been worth it.  
  
This had been the beginning of hate.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse awoke at the sound of his beeper. He ran a hand over his face, yawning, and stumbled to ER where he met with Mark. The paramedics were just wheeling a woman into ER. According to the number of bruises on her face whose colour told him it hadn't occurred long ago, he guessed it was her husband's fault that she lay here, with a broken arm and a mild concussion. The way Mark spoke to her told Jesse that she was the woman in the old building Mark and Steve had been in. Both doctors hurried in their examination, the husband not having arrived yet.  
  
An hour later the husband was greeted by a furious look of Mark's who had difficulties with keeping himself under control. However the husband was allowed to visit his wife as soon as she was out of surgery.  
  
The husband gone home later that evening, Mark slipped into her room.  
  
"How are you, Misses Murrow?"  
  
"I'm fine", she answered feebly.  
  
"That's good. Have a rest. In here no one can do you any harm." Her eyes beamed thankfully.  
  
"Doctor Sloan… the day you were at our apartment, you said you were looking for information about Magda and Ernest Barnabas."  
  
"Yes, I'm still doing so."  
  
"Doctor, I know them well. Perhaps I can help you."  
  
"Any help is welcome. But you should really have some rest now. I'll come tomorrow, I promise. Then we have time."  
  
"Yes, doctor." With that, she drifted into a secure sleep. Mark silently left her room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_ What will Misses Murrow tell Mark? What has Emily to do with the murder? Will Jesse ever play Santa Clause?  
Stay tuned! And have a Happy New Year! ~Sassy~_  
  



	4. Chapter 5

_Ha, now I've learned to write long chapters... Sorry that it took me that long to continue the story. Thanks very much for your reviews. So you're still enjoying my story? Then I won't let you keep you away from reading!  
  
All disclaimers apply, who's new? Ah yes, Mister Anthony Twain, Misses Murrow, Eleanor & Mathew Wells are mine.  
_  
  
  
  
Chapter 5: Letters and Husbands  
  
  
Investigating was one thing. Interrogating ex-husbands another, Amanda thought, when she drove her car in front of the piggy pink mansion that rose large to the sides. The last time she had had a word with hers had ended in a clear catastrophe. Although he had agreed in taking both boys over the weekend, she had found out that he wasn't alone with the children but a woman was with them. A young woman. A very young woman. If she hadn't known better she would have estimated her at no more than nineteen. Whereas him, he kept persuading her that this girl was already an adult. As if these two years would mean anything! No, he had assured her, she was twenty-four years, seven months and two days old and was taking good care of him. Well, at least he had remembered that girl's birthday which he never had been able to during their mariage, Amanda had remarked. And before he could shoot back, she had taken her boys and had left.  
  
Now that she got out of her car and studied the main building, she was reminded at the mansion of some dead basketball star, of an annoying kind of people. She couldn't help but smile at the idea of Jesse showing her a signed diaper! What a way to die for Magda, she thought, walking up the stairs. Now she really wanted to find out why a woman who had money and goods was found murdered in a stinky old place. By now having arrived at the door, she rang the bell. A man in casual clothes opened her. It was not the kind of wearing Amanda expected to see for a valet, nevertheless she asked him friendly, "Hello, Sir, my name is Doctor Amanda Bentley. May I talk to Mister Anthony Twain?"  
  
"How can I help you, Doctor Bentley?"  
  
Raising an eyebrow in surprise she reached out her hand with an elegance that showed what her passion beside pathology and mothership was. "Oh, you are Mister Twain, Magda's husband?" It had more of a statement than of a question.  
  
"Yes, I am. Why is it so important?"  
  
"My problem is", she started her tale, "she stole some medicine from me, and now…" She blinked at him. "I think we should better discuss this further when…"  
  
His shocked expression in his face spoke volumes. Yet he was polite enough to ask her in. "I… um… please." Mister Twain gestured her in.  
  
  
  
  
Jesse was sitting in the doctor's lounge playing Scrabble with himself as it was a quiet morning in ER and he had nothing else to do than inventing new words that grew between 'sheets' and 'claw'. And as if he wasn't the only one who had nothing else to do, it was Mark who entered, poured himself a mug of coffee and was amused by his younger colleague and friend cowering over the table.  
  
"Boring?"  
  
Instead of an answer the blonde hair was shaken.  
  
Mark walked over to him and peeked over his shoulder. "Qhsrekw. That's not a word, is it?"  
  
"Yes, it is," replied Jesse without turning around.  
  
"Oh, is it." Mark repeated. "Should I know it?"  
  
The pair of eyes that were now glancing at him sparkled in mocking surprise. "You don't know what a qhsrekw is? That does astonish me. Everyone knows what a qhsrekw is!"  
  
"Me not! And therefore it doesn't exist."  
  
"You bet! Just 'cause you don't know it doesn't necessarily mean it's non-existant."  
  
"Then tell me. Or else you're betraying."  
  
"I don't betray, but if you try to look it up in a dictionary, it won't be there, 'cause it's got a very special meaning."  
  
"Oh, good. And which meaning?"  
  
"Well, um… a qhsrekw… uh…"  
  
"Admit it, you're betraying."  
  
"No! Qhsrekw is originally um… a Thai word and means 'good afternoon'. We often said it at home, I learned it from a Thai who was a classmate of mine." With that, he turned to his table.  
  
At that Mark didn't know what to object. He simply left it at that and looked at the letters Jesse had taken out of the black bag next to him. "K-M-I-E-Y-G-L", he whispered hardly audible.  
  
"No good letters in these."  
  
"No good let… hey, and what about 'Emily'?"  
  
"Sorry, no proper names allowed."  
  
"And why is there an 'Elvis'?"  
  
"He's no proper name, he's the King of rock'n'roll, that's an exception."  
  
"Uhum…"  
  
"Great, Mark, why aren't you doing any useful to your patients than arguing about Scrabble, like doing rounds or something?"  
  
"I'd better take a magazine and read it in my office", Mark giggled.  
  
"Yeah, you'd better."  
  
"Fine. And, please, let me know if Emily is knocking on your brain again so that I can hide somewhere in secure distance."  
  
"Yeah", Jesse answered absent-minded to the hospital ghost as Mark had already left without awaiting an answer.  
  
  
  
  
When Mark entered the hospital room and threw a look at the person lying in the bed, he was relieved to see her smile.  
  
"You've had a good night, I suppose, Misses Murrow?"  
  
"Yes, I have. Only that my head's aching a bit. Ah, tell me, when can I go home, doctor?"  
  
"With your kind of injuries you ought to stay in hospital for a week at least."  
  
"My husband knows it?"  
  
"Yes, he was informed yesterday." He paused, wondering how to ask her what he'd wanted to know. "You said you knew Magda and Ernest Barnabas?"  
  
"Not Ernest. Not him. Just Magda. We were kinda friends." And on Mark's curious look, "Well, she was down after her divorce and needed someone to talk to. And, well, you know, my husband… he… one day, when it had been very bad, I… she just stepped in, like you did, and threw him out. Yes, she really grabbed him and threw him into the staircase." She laughed abruptly. "He didn't come back the whole afternoon, and Magda and I, we talked long into the night, about husbands, hers who had left her 'cause of her brother, mine… She was there once in two weeks, each time they had done a burglary, they hid for a night, the nights I was looking forward to. It was the only night my husband didn't… well, her divorce was kinda dirty, he didn't leave her anything except a one hundred dollar bill."  
  
"Did she tell you that someone wanted to kill her?"  
  
"No, never."  
  
"Or do you know someone who would do so? Or her brother? Anybody who hated them?"  
  
"Hm, well, those whose drugs were stolen, maybe they got a special drug dealer. Hating them? Not in our house. Except-"  
  
"Except your husband."  
  
"He wouldn't do that. He's not that kinda man." Her voice sounded rather angry. "He's… caring for anybody's life," she added, now in a sad tone.  
  
"Like he's caring for you."  
  
"Doctor Sloan, I love my husband and he loves me. If it comes out that… I'll deny everything!"  
  
Mark wondered how a beaten wife was still able to such a loyalty towards her maltreator. Nevertheless he prefered to quit this conversation at this point if he wanted to get further information from her later. "Okay. I understand that, Misses Murrow. I just asked you to help us with the murder. You've told us more we could have ever known without you. Thank you very much." She relaxed visibly. "Just one little question: they've been in the house for long?"  
  
"Think it's… hm, their divorce was last February. Since the end of January, I think."  
  
Mark smiled reassured. "Thank you, Misses Murrow. Now have a rest!"  
  
  
  
  
If there had been a slight chance of forgiveness the other day, the following day there had been less, and one week after, all good intentions had vanished.  
  
The telephone had rung once, an invitation from Mark for dinner at which she had made acquaintance with the pathologist and Coroner Doctor Amanda Bentley and her two sons CJ and Dion. Jesse had been missing. Amanda had told them there had been an emergency call just when he was about to come here. That was the last time the ER doctor being mentioned in Emily's presence that evening.  
  
Now, as she put on her coat to become pediatrist Doctor Emily Wells, she wondered how her first day would go… and how she'd avoid to cross Jesse's path.  
  
She stepped outside into the corridor and headed for the elevators to start work in the pediatry.  
  
  
  
  
Eight hours later, Emily slipped tired into the doctor's lounge which, contrary to her hope, wasn't empty.  
  
"Had a nice day at CG?" Jesse asked.  
  
No answer. Instead, Emily poured herself a cup of coffee and hurried out of the room.  
  
Jesse shook his head. "Kids!"  
  
  
  
  
Emily returned half an hour later to the doctor's lounge where she was alone now. She took a notepad out of her wallet and began to write.  
  
_Hi Mum, hi Dad!  
  
How are you? I hope, well!  
Just got some minutes free and it came to my mind spontaneously to write to you, for I tried hard to catch you on the phone. Business is rough these days, isn't it?  
How's Grandma? Still trying to persuade the video recorder to tape the latest ER episodes?  
Some doctors here in CG are great, especially this Doctor Sloan who keeps solving crimes in his free time.  
Some other doctors are and stay a plague!  
Hope you'll visit me soon!  
  
Love  
Emily_  
  
  
Short and nice, simply a quick note that she was still alive. The rest could be discussed on the phone. She put the letter into an envelope, wrote the addresses on it and was about to leave when Mark entered the doctor's lounge.  
  
"Good evening, Emily! How was your first day?"  
  
"Great! Two flus and one measles, one broken arm from a fight with her brother, that's all!"  
  
"Sounds awfully boring, doesn't it!"  
  
By now, Emily had finished enveloping her letter and stood up.  
  
"So, I'm gonna hurry to the post office and then have a nice long bath this evening!"  
  
Mark glanced at the letter Emily had in her hand and was able to read 'to Eleanore & Mathew Wells' from what he concluded, it was her parents who should receive the letter. Emily smiled at the elder doctor and went.  
  
  
  
  
Around midnight a more than normal mess was running through ER, and Emily was back.  
  
"What happened?" she asked Jesse. "Why have I been phoned?"  
  
"Gas explosion in a hotel…"  
  
Two gurneys were wheeled in and Jesse hurried over to them.  
  
"Two blacks. Get them to the pathology!"  
  
"Five-year-old, third-degree burns", a paramedic shouted.  
  
"My job", Emily stated at once.  
  
"Maybe you've already noticed that this is not pediatry but ER. So it's everybody's job!"  
  
"This is a child and I am a pediatrist so it oughta be clear that I'd be a great help for him!"  
  
Jesse rubbed his forehead, tired.. "Okay, okay. Have you any experience in pediatric emergencies?"  
  
"Of course I have! Else I wouldn't have been able to become pediatrist."  
  
"With such burns, too?"  
  
Emily hesitated. "No."  
  
"See?"  
  
But before the doctor could speak further, the medic meddled. "Damned, doctors, this kid is gonna die and you're just discussing about who isn't allowed to treat him?"  
  
The doctors looked at the paramedic, then at each other. Finally Emily said, "Yeah, he's right, perhaps we both should treat him."  
  
"Now that you got it… there are some more waiting outside, you'd better hurry!" the paramedic said turning to go.  
  
  
  
  
It went on till the next morning. Then Mark had the time to have a last look at Misses Murrow before she was being discharged.  
  
"Good morning, Misses Murrow!"  
  
"G'morning, doctor! Feeling much better today."  
  
"That's fine."  
  
"Doctor, I've still got something to tell you."  
  
He took a chair and seated himself.  
  
"When Magda and I talked to each other about a week before she… She gave me this." She gave him a ring which he observed thoroughly at once. Having spotted the engraved letters on the inside he asked, "Who is EW?"  
  
"I don't know. She gave it to me and said, it wouldn't be of any good to know the name, it was just a gift from someone who she knew and who would visit her soon."  
  
"Her murderer?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Mark frowned. He recalled Emily being in that house pretending to look for an apartment. No, he tried to convince his mind, she didn't pretend, she couldn't be the killer. She was a young fine enthusiastic doctor. Although… he had already found out that doctors sometimes were murderers. "Have a rest", he advised. "I'm going to find out whom this ring belongs to."  
  
With that he left the room rather excitedly.  
  
  
  
  
_Hello darling!  
  
I'm very sorry that we have been too busy to phone you back. At Daddy's office there has been much work, many projects to be prepared.  
Nevertheless, Daddy and I are looking forward to visit you in a few weeks.  
I hope the weather down there is better than here, we have already had the first snowstorm this winter! And the city and the sea are looking so peaceful now!  
  
Love  
Mum_  
  
  



End file.
